The War of the Worlds
by GummyBearParade
Summary: The most epic internal rant Haley Graham has ever had: making all the crap she was going through before Worlds look lame in comparison to the final straw. Random drabble


**So, I watched Stick It for the first time a few days ago and I am totally in love with it, but the FF archive for it is pathetically small. I had to contribute. **

**I don't own Stick It.**

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><p>Haley's life was anything but normal. That was the understatement of the century. Sure, she was an elite gymnast at World Championships, and everyone considered her a shoo-in for the gold, but she didn't feel happy with it.<p>

Yeah, she liked the feeling of flipping through the air and defying gravity for a few seconds, then sticking the landing perfectly and inhaling the crowd's cheers, but she didn't like being judged on the minutest of details, something the judges were very excited to do. She didn't like very many things about gymnastics barring the flipping.

First, her teammates. Or gym-sharers, or something. They weren't friends.

Joanne Charis. She was a diva. An irritating diva. She was the prom queen/popular girl of the DeFrank gym—always wearing her pink leos and sparkly makeup to look down her nose at you. She wasn't as talented as Haley, which she never hesitated to complain about, and she almost always had tantrums when things didn't go her way.

Trisha Skilken. She was _annoying. _If Joanne was the diva, she was the perfectionist with a mean streak. She was good, almost as good as Haley (not that Haley liked to brag) and she was one of the favorites for the medal at Worlds and going to the Olympics. And however nice she seemed on the outside of the gym, once you got inside, you forgot that she had a nice side, since she drove them all to insanity with phrases like "our opportunity" or "this is my chance" or "this time we'll get it" or "just one more time". It was nauseating.

And if we're on the topic of what made Haley annoyed, she had a few more things to say.

Her coach was stupid. Say what you want, but Chris DeFrank was not a good coach. He never showed them what they needed to do—they just stumbled along until he said that it was perfect. And then they promptly stopped because they knew, deep down, that something about what he told them didn't feel right.

A lot of his clients had broken bones.

And he wasn't very nice to them. Haley didn't know how he could go all day yelling like that. He must have vocal cords of steel.

He, like Trisha Skilken, was two-sided—in public and on interviews after they won medals, he was sweeter than honey, all compliments and "oh, we're just glad to be here. We're just going to do our best and hope it's enough." Back at the gym, though, he was constantly criticizing how they stood, or how they ran, or how they jumped.

Every single girl at the gym rolled their eyes whenever he said that he "just wanted them to do their best. If they don't win, it's okay." Yeah, right. Haley didn't see how someone as mean and unhelpful as him turned out as many champion gymnasts as he did. It didn't make sense.

And then the big one—Haley didn't have a life.

No, really. Every day she was practicing jumps and flips and anything gymnastics; most nights she was doing handsprings 'til she died. She got up at six, balanced on the beam for a while, then got ready for school. After school she was back in the gym, perfecting her routines and ignoring everyone else. When she was done for the night, she fell into bed and immediately was sleeping, getting ready to start again the next day.

School wasn't even school. School was homeschooling in a small room off the gym at DeFrank's. There was a tutor and everything. But at least Haley didn't have to worry about the homeschooling—she had gotten her GED a few months before Worlds, and was eager to have the days off. Not necessarily for more gym time, but so she could maybe go out and actually _do something _and _meet someone._

Haley pulled her pants on over her leo and sat down on the bench. Her beam routine had just gone well, though she had been a little shaky on a few landings. She wondered where Chris was. He was usually there to congratulate them on not totally failing at something, but he wasn't that time.

Haley shrugged it off and went to find a bathroom, ignoring Trisha's spotless beam performance. She walked through the—what was it called—lobby?—of the building and passed an alcove. It was shrouded in darkness. There were voices coming from it.

She didn't want to investigate, but she had found a bathroom, and to get to it she would have to pass right in front of the alcove.

Honestly, she didn't care who was in it, but she was mildly curious. What she heard made her stop in her tracks.

"Alice, you need to tell Brice about us. He's getting suspicious."

"I know, Chris, but I don't want Haley to know. She's almost to the Olympics and she needs to focus."

"She does. But she doesn't have to know anything. Just tell Brice and keep it from her until after we find out if she's going to the Olympics, then tell her. She doesn't deserve to be kept in the dark."

Then there was the unmistakable sound of making out. But Haley wasn't hearing that. She was hearing _her coach_ and _her mom_ talking about _their affair._

And that was the breaking point. She was done with gymnastics. She was done with Joanne and Trisha "complimenting" her when they really wanted to grind her into dust; she was done with Chris and all his stupid-coaching, mom-kissing glory; she was done with not having a life. She was leaving.

Not going back for her coat, Haley ripped the number off her back and grabbed her bag of stuff. Chin held high, she walked out the doors, knowing that it would take nothing short of the end of the world before she would go back to DeFrank and gymnastics.

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><p><strong>Yeah...somehow this sounded a lot better in my head. But whatever. Please review!<strong>

**Alex**


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